The bucket of cold water dumped
over her head finally roused her, and Kiran returned to consciousness with aching
reluctance. Her body protested its confinement and she wearily tugged at the
manacles that held her arms suspended overhead in a state of constant near-tingling
numbness. She could barely feel her fingers at the moment and wondered how badly
it was going to hurt when they finally let her arms down. If I live that
long, she thought with a certain sense of bleary unreality.

Distantly, she recalled the struggle
to get her in here and Kiran felt some grim satisfaction that it had taken four
of their guards to subdue and chain her. Somewhere in the process, however,
they had knocked her out in order to get the manacles on her. She hoped that
the one she had kneed would be feeling it for some time to come. In the meanwhile,
she shivered in the wet remains of her clothes. Boots, armour and outer clothes
had been tossed in a corner, discarded like so much trash.

The iron cuffs cut into her wrists
and chafed her cold, clammy skin raw. Bruises and blood gave evidence to her
struggle, and she sighed as she attempted to regain her feet and retake some
measure of her tattered dignity and pride. Such as it is, Kiran berated
herself. Her head tilted back between her arms and she stared at the flapping
tarp of the tent's ceiling wondering how much time had passed and what might
have happened while she was... away.

Fear settled thickly in her stomach
as she lifted her head and found several pairs of eyes watching her, including
those of the man in the open leather vest at the back of the room. Something
about him scared her, and Kiran swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers and
he smiled, almost warmly, when their gazes held. A miniature silver sword dangled
from his left ear, its point leading her eye down the strong column of his neck
to the unsubtle display of chest and muscle beneath his clothes. Ares,
her mind supplied. Kiran's breath caught as she realised that she was in the
same tent with a God. And not just any god, but the God of War. And he was smiling
at her. That couldn't be a good sign, she decided. In fact... I think we're
screwed. Suddenly, she blinked. Did he just wink at me? Did she have
a head injury or did she really see that? Kiran couldn't decide.

Another man stepped into her
line of view, a smaller, more compact version of Ares, strong and good-looking,
but almost overshadowed by the dark presence in the back of the tent.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked
in a pleasant tone.

Kiran peered at him for a moment
and delayed her answer as she quibbled over how she wanted to handle this. Living,
unpleasant as it seemed, was her primary goal. "Yes," she finally replied in
a hoarse voice. She would delay them as long as she could and perhaps manage
to buy Neapolis a little more time.

"Good," Stephicles replied and
then waved someone forward. Another man came into Kiran's limited line of vision.
By his dress, she guessed he was a high-ranking officer in the warlord's army
and could only speculate as to the reason for his presence. When he stepped
closer, she could see the lurid bruises that covered his face, made all the
more disturbing by the look of baleful anger he gave her.

"May I introduce you to Commander
Nader?" Stephicles looked at his commander. "Nader, I believe this woman is
at least partially responsible for cooking a third of our men. And, as I'm sure
you'll recall, I took out a great deal of my temper on you when you and Linus
told me the news."

"Now, my dear," the warlord said
as he turned back to her, ignoring the audible sound of his commander's teeth
grinding together. "I realise that Xena did the actual deed, but as you are
the only representative of Neapolis close enough, and seeing as the act was
done on your behalf, I'm sure you'll understand if we decide to be upset with
you instead."

Kiran's eyes jumped over Stephicles'
shoulder in time to see Ares quirk another smile of enjoyment at her predicament.
No help there. She quickly darted her eyes back to Nader and her breath grew
short when she saw his fists began clenching and unclenching at his sides. Nader
was a big man and a seasoned mercenary from the look of him. He would not be
gentle with her. "What are you going to do?" she finally asked,

"Do?" Stephicles gave the appearance
of considering the question. "I would like some information from you. Nader
is present to encourage you to tell me the truth about what I want to know.
And I'm certain he'll be very persuasive, if you take my meaning."

Kiran nodded, not really knowing
what to say in response to that.

The boyish smile he gave her
with its look of irrepressible enthusiasm seemed greatly at odds with the current
situation. He went and sat down in a chair, with one leg casually thrown over
the arm. "Now then, tell me about your half of the Spear of Mercy."

"May I have some water first?"
Her tongue felt thick and hot in her mouth, and her head ached something fierce.

"We have the spear tip. I've
seen it a few times. It's about a foot and a half in length and made of a metal
I've never seen before." No harm in telling that much, at least, she
hoped.

"Where is it kept?"

"I don't know."

"Nader?"

The punch rocked her head back
and Kiran's vision speckled with light as blood ran down her chin. Her body
quivered and folded, leaving her to hang painfully by her wrists.

"Next time, don't hit her in
the mouth, I want to be able to understand her in the event that she has something
useful to say."

The commander didn't reply, but
rather towered over their prisoner, exuding a palpable menace.

"Again. Where is it kept?"

"I don't kn-"

A double-fisted blow to her ribs
made her bite her tongue, and Kiran muffled a cry of pain as the hit acerbated
the injuries and bruises accumulated over the last week. Peripherally, she noticed
Ares wincing.

"One more like that and I'll
allow Nader to proceed unhindered. For the last time, where is it kept?"

His calm manner and cleanliness
in the face of her filthy condition irrationally irked her even in light of
her own danger. Kiran spat blood on the floor of the tent and weakly replied,
"I use it as a back-scratcher. It's under my pillow in the barracks." There
was a snort of laughter from the back.

By the time Stephicles called
for a halt to her punishment, Kiran was sure she would be peeing blood and could
barely see out of one eye. Pain. All she could think or feel was the pain that
lapped against her throbbing consciousness without surcease. So tired.
How she wished it could all just be over. "Th' temple," she finally muttered
through bloody lips. "I's in th' temple."

"See? That wasn't hard at all.
But I want more," Stephicles pressed. "Where is it kept in the temple?"

Kiran didn't want to answer and
stared at the floor of the tent, noting the mud that had been tracked in from
all the recent activity. A fist in her hair made her gasp, and tears prickled
her eyes. "I don't know," the captain wheezed.

Nader pulled harder until Kiran
thought it would be ripped out at the roots.

Nader paused to lick one of his
knuckles and Kiran took advantage of the respite to collapse in her irons and
catch her breath. Whoever had spoken had her deepest gratitude for stopping
the constant rain of abuse, even if only for a short time. Prying her eye open,
she sought out her saviour and was shocked to see Mira standing beside the God
of War. Her traitor's face was pale and grim.

Ares' dark head turned to look
down on Mira, and he raised an eyebrow in annoyed interest. Stephicles swung
his leg over and stood up. "Oh? And why would you think that?"

"She was just a recruit before
Captain Ilias was killed. Except for when it was displayed during a service,
Kiran wouldn't know where the spear head is kept."

"Ah," the warlord said. "Which
means that you knew all the time?" He strolled over to stand in front
of her, his hands behind his back.

"All I know is that since the
attack their clergy have taken the damn thing and hidden it. It's in the temple,
but that's all I know," Mira stated. Kiran grudgingly gave her credit
for maintaining her composed bravado under the combined anger of the two men
who hovered over the former acolyte.

"Mira, I don't like being deceived,"
Ares said at last as he reached down and placed one finger beneath her chin
to lift her eyes to his, "I gave you your instructions personally, didn't
I?"

Kiran wondered why the other
woman flinched when he emphasised his words.

"Yes," she answered quietly,
looking for all the world as if she wished she were anywhere else but there.

That makes two of us,
Kiran commiserated.

"Enough of this!" Stephicles
broke in angrily. "We know its location enough to begin the last part of the
attack." He pointed to Nader. "Order the men to prepare for the final assault.
We're not going to stop until the gate is ripped off its hinges and we're inside.
I want a contingent of men with ropes to use the horses to pull the gate down.
I don't care how many men it costs!" The warlord shouted when he saw Nader about
to object. "We'll pull it down, ride in, and take it from them!"

"What about her?" Nader asked
and jerked a thumb in Kiran's direction.

"Keep her," Ares answered for
him. "If we have trouble locating the spear point we can use her as a bargaining
chip."

"Let's go," Stephicles ordered
and strode from the tent with Nader in tow.

Ares looked after them and then
returned his gaze to the woman still standing in thrall next to him. "You failed
me."

"Please, Ares," Mira begged softly,
for what, Kiran couldn't guess.

"You failed me. Not once, but
twice. She," he pointed at Kiran without looking at her, "is still alive when
I told you to kill her, and you neglected to mention that you knew the
Spear's whereabouts." His large hand stroked the side of her face before gliding
down to wrap around her throat.

"Please, Ares," Mira pleaded
again. "Release me."

"You're mine!" His anger
suddenly boiled to the surface. "This won't happen again." Their eyes
met and whatever silent message was exchanged left the young woman's shoulders
slumped in defeat. "Prepare my horse," the god ordered her in a harsh tone.

Kiran watched her nod and begin
walking towards the door. As she passed, she watched the dark-haired woman's
eyes meet hers, an expression of shamed regret barely hidden there.

Much became clear in that brief
conversation and Kiran resentfully felt a kernel of pity for the girl. Even
after all she had done. I want to hate her, she seethed. I do
hate her. But, she felt sorry for her, too. Imagine being trapped in
service to the God of War.

"It's not as bad as you might
think," Ares' deep voice commented.

Kiran, startled, looked up fearfully
to find him standing over her. How... "So you read minds, too?" How much
else could he see? Had she given anything away?

"No," he answered with a shake
of his dark head. "Though that would certainly solve a lot of my problems. In
this case, it was written all over your face."

She breathed a mental sigh of
relief and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Yeah? Well, working
for you looks like it sucks. I wouldn't want to be her." It was bold and rash
and... He's gonna kill me. She paused in her thoughts and decided that
that would be an acceptable alternative to the headache that was threatening
to make her sick.

Instead of the expected anger,
Ares merely smiled. "Is that so?" He stepped closer, and Kiran's view was suddenly
filled with Ares' coldly handsome face. For a brief whirling moment she fell
into his eyes and was consumed by his power, by the sheer depth of the nerve-tingling,
soul-shattering force that made War all that it was, is, and could be. Glory.
Hatred. Honour. Spoils. Revenge. Wrath. All the emotions. The reasons. All the
beginnings of what drove humankind to violence, be they noble or base.

The link was dropped and Kiran
collapsed in her bindings, panting for breath. Her mind reeled, striving to
deal with the widening of her consciousness far past its finite capabilities.
When she could think straight all that remained was the knowledge that War existed
for the continuation of War itself. Without warriors, without violence... he'd
cease to exist.

"Yeah, but given mortal tendencies,
I don't think I have anything to worry about," Ares said and grinned. "Too bad
you're on the wrong side, Kiran." He patted her cheek. "You're a spunky fighter
with a good head on your shoulders. Lots of potential. You sure ya don't wanna
rethink your career path?"

"I still don't want to work for
you. Sounds like an invitation to a short lifespan."

He stood up smoothly and grinned
again. "'So long as you live, Neapolis will not fall," he quoted. "Doesn't sound
like you're going to live a long time anyway."

"Yeah, and here I was all set
for grandkids and grey hair," Kiran sighed, feigning a blasé expression
towards her own demise. "I've heard that one a lot lately though. I don't suppose
you have any new prophecies for me?"

"If you want prophesies, talk
to the Fates," Ares replied. "But, I can appreciate your sense of humour under
pressure so I won't let you shuffle off your mortal coil without a parting gift.
Xena's on her way back, but even though she'll arrive in time, it won't matter."

"What?" Kiran croaked. "She's
coming? When? Where is she now?" She peppered her him with her urgent questions,
her pain momentarily forgotten in the elation of the unexpected news.

"The Warrior Princess will return,
and return again, and what is dark will be darker still," Ares intoned, ignoring
her outburst. And stopped. "Damn, I didn't mean to do that." He shook his head
in mock consternation. With a hum of satisfaction, he wiggled his fingers in
a good-bye and winked out of the tent in a flash of blue light leaving Kiran
alone with the empty solace of his cryptic words to keep her company.

'The Warrior Princess will
return, and return again...' What the Tartarus does that mean? A gnawing
sensation of dread filled her gut, and Kiran began frantically wrestling with
her chains knowing that, somehow, she had to get out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

It was, perhaps, mid-morning,
but it meant little except that the dreary grey sky might lighten a little more
yet on this soggy and mist laden day. Chiaro had carried her far and fast in
the night until the muddy road with its holes puddled with water and deceptive
footing had proven too much for horse and rider. Deciding on a temporary halt,
Gabrielle had pulled them off the road and beneath the dubious shelter of some
pines where she huddled against the mare under the prickly, sweet smelling boughs,
the Spear held tightly against her chest in both hands.

Sleep had been a fleeting fancy
and the bard's nerves, jangled and tense, only allowed for a short and nightmare-coated
nap. Her dreams, filled with fire, darkness, and the haunted eyes of her partner
had brought her to a heart-pounding wakefulness with an urgency that drove her
back into the saddle and down the road once more.

* * *

"Xena, when I get my hands on
you..." Gabrielle muttered under her breath again for perhaps the dozenth time
in the past hour making Chiaro's ears flicker back at the sound of her voice.
"It's all your fault I'm up here on this damn horse à no offence à in this gods-forsaken
weather, and you're gonna pay so big when I see you..." She adjusted her grip
on her new staff, and contemplated how she'd handle the warrior upon their reunion.
"A month of setting up camp? Firewood-gathering duty? I'd make you cook, but
I don't think I should have to suffer, too. What do you think?" She directed
this last question to the mare whose steady gait just off the road was bringing
her closer and closer to her quarry. A whinny came back to her and Gabrielle,
choosing to interpret it as a comment in her favour, nodded in satisfaction.
"I thought so."

It was all a ruse, of course,
and Gabrielle knew it. Talking, her source of comfort and release helped ease
her growing inner turmoil if only to the barest degree. The questions reverberating
inside beat in time to the mare's smooth rhythm, and the aching urgency would
not give her peace. Gods, Xena, she breathed, why did you leave me?
The real reason? What don't you want me to see? To know? Don't you know yet
that there's nothing that would drive me away from you? She huffed a sigh
knowing there would be no answers for some time yet and slowed the horse down
to a slower pace as she had seen Xena do during their headlong rush to Kozani.
The mare's flanks deflated with what the bard interpreted as a relieved sigh,
and she patted her neck in silent apology before returning to her thoughts.

The lack of faith in her hurt.
And she hurt for Xena that the warrior couldn't, or wouldn't, open up enough
to accept the help she so desperately wanted to offer, and instead chose to
leave without a word. No doubt she thought leaving me there was in my own
best interest, whether it was what I wanted or not. Gabrielle grimaced and
made a sound of frustration. "When I get my hands on you..." she said again.

Chiaro's sudden loud snort and
hitching step startled the bard and she grasped the reins in a tighter grip
and peered anxiously around them in the cold curtain of fog. "Easy there," she
said, pulling them to a stop and trying to calm the horse and herself at the
same time. Her heart pounding and her palms feeling damp in the confines of
her gloves, Gabrielle's sea green eyes darted over the vague and half-formed
landscape ghostly visible through the drizzle. But for the falling drops of
rain, she could see nothing. Though...

"Do you see anything?" She
remembered asking, and watched as the warrior shook her head.

"No," Xena had answered her
in that deep and quiet rumble. "But that doesn't mean that something's not
there."

The memory of the two of them,
standing in the forest's shadows just before their first glimpse of Neapolis,
came back to her abruptly. Xena was perpetually on her guard, always ready,
always listening. It wasn't a bad example to follow.

Chiaro tossed her head again,
growing even more agitated and the bard longed to dismount and lead the animal,
but she realised she would be putting herself at a disadvantage if she couldn't
get away quickly in the face of danger. Run when you can... Warrior Princess
Rule number one, she reminded herself. Well, maybe number two. After
"don't touch my horse". She shook herself from her internal reverie. C'mon,
bard, pay attention here.

The leather palm of her glove
squeaked when she gripped the Spear tighter and swallowed hard. The heels of
her boots urged Chiaro into motion and the wet impact of her hooves in the mud
and dark, bruised leaves was the only sound she could detect over her own rough
breathing. An irregular lump took shape on the wet ground in front of her, and
the mare's dancing steps to the side and away from it told Gabrielle all she
needed to know to put her on her guard. Did it move? She wasn't sure, but she
coaxed the mare closer, aware of the whitening around Chiaro's eyes. As they
narrowed the distance, the object resolved itself into the uniformed body of
a man, and Gabrielle's heart pounded wondering if Xena's army had been attacked
on its journey to Neapolis.

But no, if it was one of Kozani's
troops, surely they would have seen to the man? Unless Xena thought it was a
waste of their time and energies. That kind of cold practicality was just like
her. Especially these days, Gabrielle conceded to herself with a certain
sadness. So who was this fellow?

The man lay face down in the
dirt, one arm thrown over his head and the fingertips of the other buried in
the mud as if reaching for something. The bard pulled her hood back and brushed
the long, damp strands of hair away from her face as she leaned down and carefully
used one blunted end of the Spear haft to nudge him. No protests. No movement.
Gabrielle waited for a moment longer and then dismounted.

As nervous and spooked as her
horse, Gabrielle reached out to grab a strap on the armour plating and quickly
turned the man over. Only to immediately recoil in revulsion when she saw the
gaping wounds in his torso that the dirt encrusted leather armour could not
hide. Oh yuck, her stomach nearly rebelled at the sight. How did he
get out here...? There were no other bodies, and no signs of struggle. Her
eyes took in the scene again and realised that he must have lived through the
attack long enough to drag himself as far as the roadway before he died. Trying
to get away? She wondered. There was something... familiar... about this, but
she couldn't tell yet what that was.

Even with the hard rainfall of
the last several hours, the passage of the man's body had not been entirely
washed away. Gabrielle's eyes, more practised now than they had been a year
and a half ago, sought and found the traces that would lead her back to wherever
this soldier had been attacked. Did she have the time? She glanced back to where
Chiaro stood, the mare's nostrils flaring at the scent of the dead man, and
then turned to look into the deeper part of the woods, her need to know growing
by leaps and bounds.

The decision took all of a moment
to make and she was picketing Chiaro before setting off into the forest, one
careful step at a time. Gabrielle kept a constant watch of her surroundings
while marking the trail and the remains of the dead man's passage.

She stepped through the trees
and the slow-moving veil of fog into unimagined carnage. Bodies lay everywhere
in various stages of dismemberment. The wet weather exposed their wounds with
ghastly cleanliness, offering a bloodless display of impeccable detail that
left Gabrielle feeling shocked and nauseated. Belongings and blankets lay in
forlorn and abandoned disarray, and while she couldn't be certain, the bard
had a feeling that whatever had happened here had taken these men by surprise.
Looks of fear, of anger, of agony could be found in many of the faces that were
still recognisable.

She turned a slow circle and
counted some thirteen men. It was readily clear that they were dead and with
nothing to be done about it, Gabrielle was about to turn to go when she spotted
another man, farther off from the rest. A quick look, she told herself.
A quick look and then I'm on the road again. I've seen enough.

This one lay with his hands over
his heart and his eyes staring sightlessly into the grey and mournful sky. She
gave a sudden gasp when she realised that she recognised him. He was the one
who had blown her cover, the one who had faced off against Xena as the Warrior
Princess fought him to give her time to get away. Xena... her thoughts
racing in her mind as something clicked, and Gabrielle rushed back into the
camp to wildly searched it and the trees surrounding it. There they were, plain
to see now that she was looking for them. The signature markings of her best
friend's chakram showed themselves in the gashed tree trunks, broken rock face,
and split forehead of one of dead. Xena had definitely been here. Even as she
felt a certain excitement at the thought, it was quickly tempered by the pure
savageness of the attack. A hot, brutal fight which she could very nearly envision
in her mind's eye from watching Xena in who knew how many encounters?

And something about the sword
strokes, the bodies, and the state of the camp told the bard that this had all
been managed single-handedly. That thought scared the Tartarus out of Gabrielle
as she looked around again at the devastation. Oh Xena, what's happening
to you? It was plain that no mercy had been granted here.

She leaned on the Spear in much
the same manner as she did her own staff and contemplated the random pattern
of leaves beneath her feet as she thought about the recent depth of change she
had witnessed in Xena. She blinked as a scrap of brown amongst the other browns
and greens caught her eye and the bard bent down, her nose scrunching in curiosity.
Her fingers rubbed against it and she realised that she held a bit of leather
in her hand. A piece of dark, ragged brown leather. Much like that worn by her
partner. As she handled it she noticed her fingertips became smudged with a
dark crimson and realised that the bit of material was moist with blood. She's
been injured. Gabrielle felt a deep welling of panicked concern as she quickly
stuffed the piece of leather in her belt and stood to go. And barely felt the
presence behind her until it was almost too late.

Gabrielle whirled with the Spear
lifted in both hands and caught the blade on the solid wood with a stinging
clang. She shoved the blade away and quickly backed up to give herself some
room to face him. And then she noticed two others behind him. You just HAD
to be curious, didn't you? Gabrielle yelled at herself. Parry. Thrust. You
just HAD to know what had happened, right? Grunt. Swing. Duck. "Ow!" A cut
to her leg. Double hit and a leg sweep. One down. She backed up again
and considered her options. Which, she realised, weren't many. Well, no one
knows you're here. And that means that you have to get yourself out of this
mess since there's no hero to pull you out of it.

The two soldiers came at her
simultaneously, and Gabrielle sweated as she struggled to fend off their highly
skilled attack. She had to get out of this. Xena needed her. The people of Neapolis
were depending on the warrior and the knowledge the bard carried. I won't
fail you. I won't! She resolved as she gritted her teeth and redoubled her
efforts.A deflection and a sharp series of counter strokes. Shin. Elbow.
Chin. Two down!

"You're not bad," her final adversary
said as he made a cut for her head.

"Thanks," she muttered and barely
blocked the hit. In return, she brought the lower end of her staff up in a quick,
hard motion and slammed it into his kneecap with a satisfying smack. They both
grunted at the impact, and backed off to re-evaluate the situation. "I don't
suppose you could just let me go? Really. I have someplace else I have to be
and I'm of no possible use to you boys at all."

"Oh, I could find a use," he
laughed as he moved in again, punctuating his reply with a thrust to her midsection.
Gabrielle barely turned in time to avoid it, and swung wildly at him but lost
her sense of balance in the process. They both realised her mistake at the same
time, and the man ducked beneath her blow and came up within her defences. His
fist connected hard with Gabrielle's cheek and she stumbled back and tripped,
falling on her back amidst the slain. The back of her hand slammed against a
kettle and her weapon was jarred from her grasp.

He loomed above her and the bard
reached out, her hand scrambling to find the Spear. His laughter filled her
ears, and Gabrielle watched him raise the sword above her. Oh, gods... please...
Xena, I'm sorry... Something flashed out of the corner of her eye, and Gabrielle
turned in surprise to find the Spear of Mercy giving off a gold, pulsating light
just beyond her fingertips. ...What...? There wasn't time for questions,
and a lightning glance upward told her she was out of time. She lunged for the
Spear and felt an enveloping heat through the palms of her gloves as she rolled
out of the way of the sword that hummed past her and buried itself in the ground.
The bard came to her knees and lashed out at her assailant's weapon watching
as the blade shattered on impact and shards of metal rained across the clearing
in a high ringing tone.

They both gaped almost comically
at the broken sword in his hand. "Wow," Gabrielle breathed in awe and let out
a disbelieving laugh as she climbed to her feet. "Now will you let me
go? I swear we could have avoided all this trouble if you'd just listened to
me in the first place. Some people never listen."

With a growl, he tossed his now
useless weapon aside and came at her with his bare hands. His wild, enraged
attack sent him careening towards her, and Gabrielle just barely set herself
in time. "Look!" Thwack! "I'm really getting tired of this..." Smack!
"...I have someplace I have to be..." Thud! "...and you're getting on my
nerves!" Smack! Crunch!

The man let out an agonised screech
and Gabrielle winced in response. And I thought only women could reach that
register. "I'm sorry, but you started this, remember?" He didn't appear
to be paying attention and the bard was fed up. A quick combination of hits
concluded by a blow to the back of the head left her attacker prone, dazed and
completely unable to continue the fight.

Gabrielle breathed hard as she
looked around, searching for any further danger. Seeing none, she allowed herself
a congratulatory grin. "Huh. Look what I did." Pleased with herself she began
jogging back toward the road. Wait'll Xena hears about this one. I'll bet
she'll be impressed. The grin on her face turned wry after a moment's consideration.
Well... at least she will once she stops yelling at me. The gods know she'll
be frothing that I'm not where she left me. The bard pulled Chiaro's reins
loose from the overhanging branch and clambered back into the damp saddle. She
clicked her tongue at her mount and felt Chiaro respond quickly to her heels
as they continued at a brisk pace down the side of the road.

Relegating the reins to one hand
she used the other to examine the Spear more closely. All signs of its unusual
light were gone, and the dark, seasoned wood under her fingertips felt cool
and normal. Weird, Gabrielle decided. But she wasn't about to look a
gift horse in the mouth. Not when there was still so much farther to go.

Thus reminded of the time she
had lost, Gabrielle gave Chiaro her head, and the two picked up speed, cantering
as quickly as they dared until they were lost in the tendrils of swirling mist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY

The manacles would not yield
and Kiran finally gave up to hang in ignominious and frustrated defeat. The
captain was uncertain of how much time had passed, but she had given close attention
to the sounds of shouting and horses outside the tent. The time remaining before
for the final attack was dwindling and Kiran knew that, without a miracle, Neapolis
would likely fall before the end of the day. Athena, help them. Keep them
safe. Protect them, she begged fervently. It was unlikely that such would
happen, but maybe some would be spared Stephicles' brutal rampage.

A voice outside alerted her and
Kiran turned her eyes towards the tent's fluttering doorway. Through her good
eye she could see a cloaked figure slip into the tent and approach her. With
a small grunt, she wrestled herself to her feet and tried to prepare herself
for whatever abuse might be coming next. "Who's there?" she demanded to know,
trying to keep her voice firm and steady.

"He got you good, didn't he?"

Mira. Damn you...leave me be.
"What are you doing back here?" Kiran spat as the other woman moved into
her line of sight. "Looking to take a turn?"

"Shut up," Mira replied with
a defensive air and reached out to unlock the chain holding the manacle around
her left wrist. "I only did what I had to do, and even then I didn't do all
of it."

"Should I be happy about that?"
she retorted and ran her tongue against her split lip. "Though, if it's possible,
Ares seems even less thrilled with you right now than I am."

An expression of dull anger marred
the other woman's features at the taunt, and she paused for a moment to shoot
her prisoner a severe look. "Be. Quiet."

"Or else what? You'll hit me
again?" The captain goaded her and rattled her chains. "You murdering bitch!
You're lucky that I'm locked up right now or I'd kill you with my bare hands!"

The muscles of Mira's jaw worked,
and Kiran was mystified by the expression of sad defeat on the girl's face.
"You have no idea just how tempted I am to let you," Mira responded quietly.

Taken aback, Kiran could only
stare as Mira dashed a hand across her eyes. "What are you saying?" The fingers
that tried to unlock the chains holding her upright shook, and Kiran could feel
the tiny tremors along the length of the quietly clinking chain.

"Do you think I want to
serve Ares?" The girl gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts and finally
the lock tumbler clicked open.

Kiran collapsed to the tent floor,
groaning as the strain on her shoulders was finally released. She lay on the
floor in blessed stillness, and winced at the sharp, tingling ache that radiated
from her shoulders and arms as blood began to flow again. "It sure looked like
it when you cut Agnes' throat last night." A growl, buoyed on the rising level
of her pain, underscored her words.

"You have no idea what it is
to be compelled. No idea how it feels to be trapped between servitude and death,"
Mira said with a sad intensity that made her appear far older than her years.
"There are so few choices."

"Yeah? I think I would have rather
died than betrayed people who had cared for me."

Mira sank to her haunches, her
face pale and still though her eyes were over-bright with moisture. "You're
so certain of your convictions and ideals, Kiran. The people I thought cared
for me abandoned me. They left me on Ares' doorstep and cursed me for the visions
that always seemed to herald death and violence. He took me in. Gave me a home.
Offered a purpose other than dying of starvation or worse on the streets. And
by the time he came to reclaim my debt, to claim me, I owed him so much."
Mira clenched her fist and held it against her heart, entreating Kiran to hear
her words, to understand her. "I had no other choice."

Kiran's anger was blunted, but
not erased. "There are always choices."

"My world isn't as black and
white as yours seems to be," Mira retorted.

"Should I feel sorry for you
now?" The captain shot back. "For all I know you're just acting again. When
I think of your smiles and jokes back in Neapolis it makes me sick. You must
have loved how you had everyone in your pocket!"

"I wasn't acting."

She spoke so calmly, so quietly,
that Kiran was hard pressed to disbelieve her. Those dark brown eyes met hers
and grew deep with such grief that she almost couldn't stand to share such a
weighted gaze. If it were true, then it meant that the girl she had seen in
Neapolis had been the real her, not this dark and miserable shadow that kneeled
before her now. Kiran didn't want to feel for her plight, didn't want to know
the horrors those eyes had seen. She had enough to be worried about without
adding more. But, she couldn't help but see the situation in a new, if reluctant
light.

Brown eyes met grey and finally
Mira sighed, unsheathed her short sword, and took hold of Kiran's bindings.
"C'mon. Before they come back in here wondering what I've done with you."

* * *

They ducked out of the tent and
into a teeming maelstrom of activity as the camp prepared for the final assault
on the town. Kiran winced as the enveloping sound and motion made her head pound
harder, the mix of horses, men, and metal all combined into an almost intelligible
wall of noise. Mira held the sword at her back, but Kiran knew it was only a
reminder and a guide; she wasn't going anywhere at the moment. Not when she
was smack in the middle of an army. And it's not like I can run anyway,
she thought with pained frustration as she limped onwards slightly bent at the
waist. She was certain her midriff must be mottled with deep and colourful bruises.
I'd be lucky to crawl ten feet before they spitted me.

With her keeper prodding her
along, the two women made their way through the throng to a hillock that offered
a clearer view of the town's gates. They joined the others standing in the ankle
high winter-faded grass and Kiran leaned her head back to catch a few drops
of rain in her parched mouth before turning her gaze towards the group of men
gathering close below. Between the animatedly gesturing Stephicles and the still
and intimidating form of Ares, she could see the ropes and hooks that were being
passed around. Here and there, the men carried chains and shields as well.

Lifting her gaze, Kiran could
see the figures of her people moving along the walls, their bobbing heads moving
quickly, but she hoped not frantically, in making their own preparations. Was
Dalis there? Did he still live? Or had he become another casualty of this unending
madness?

Anxious dread knotted her stomach.
She knew enough to know that it was almost over. The captain looked over her
shoulder towards the mist-clouded woods and hoped, wished, for some sign
of the Warrior Princess. Ares had said Xena would be back, and for some reason
he didn't strike her as the type who would bother to lie. But the woods remained
still and her hopes faded as she heard Stephicles turned and spoke to his commander.

"Give the signal," he said with
a relaxed smile.

Nader saluted, left his side
and joined the milling group of horsemen. The lead rider leaned down to speak
with the man, nodded once, and then gave a shouted command to his men. They
gathered in rough lines flanked to either side by archers armed with flaming
pitch. The stink of it, heavy in the moist air, filled her nose and she knew
that she would learn to hate it long before the day was over.

Nader waved his arm twice in
the air and snapped it forward and Kiran's stomach bottomed out, realising that
the beginning of Neapolis' end was underway. At the sign, the mounted troops
surged forward and the thundering rumble of their stride grew and ripped the
turf below their churning hooves. The slap of bowstrings stung the air and suddenly
dozens upon dozens of flaming arrows whisked across the overcast sky, a deadly
herald of the coming army. The lethal hail fell on the Neapolitan defences and
she shivered when the screaming began. Shouts and cries carried thinly to her
over the roar of the horsemen and Kiran instinctively took a step forward, only
to be halted in her progress by Mira's hand on her shoulder. The captain gritted
her teeth and bore it, but hated herself for not shaking off her captor's grip
and at least attempting to run, impossibly foolish as it might be. The
ridiculous prophecy whispered through her mind again, and she clenched her fists
and desperately tried to believe that her standing here, living as they died,
perhaps aided them somehow.

Another flight of arrows followed
the first, and the archers broke ranks to close the distance to the walls and
lend support to the mounted troops who were slowing their approach. The creak
of rope pulled her eyes back towards Stephicles' camp in time to see his remaining
catapult launch a stone aloft. From her vantage it seemed to hang in the air
for the longest time, its tumbling mass small and light against the clouds.
The rock shattered as it impacted the wall near the gates, the resounding boom
echoing back across the battlefield to her as shards flew in all directions,
killing one person and injuring more.

They rallied though, and Kiran
wondered how long their pride would let them last as they poured hot oil over
the side and down onto the men beneath the gate. Shields were thrown up in response
and she grinned savagely when someone tossed a torch down to set it alight.
Perhaps a half-dozen of Stephicles' men thrashed and ran, the fiery oil seeping
through armour and cloth setting flesh afire. More arrows followed, and the
braver of his troops pressed forward and wedged their hooks in the sturdy metal
plates that had, until now, kept the Neapolitans safe.

"Sir, we've lost at least a dozen
so far," Nader reported as he jogged back to his general's side.

"Mount another dozen and a half
and send them in," Stephicles ordered calmly. "We'll crush them with sheer numbers."

Kiran listened to this and caught
Ares' nod out of the corner of her eye. If she hadn't already been looking she
would have missed the glance he gave over his shoulder, his dark eyes thoughtfully
searching the same stretch of woods she had been examining earlier. Is he
expecting her already? She, too, looked back, barely daring to hope that
the greenery might suddenly part and reveal the ferocious Warrior Princess galloping
down the hillside towards them. The mist draped woods stood silent as before.
Disappointed, Kiran turned back, her eyes colliding with Ares' and she was unable
to interpret the look he gave her before returning to watch the roiling movement
centred on the gate.

The horsemen whipped their mounts
pulling the chains and ropes taut. Another wave of arrows arched toward the
top of the wall and over it to push the defenders back. More of Stephicles'
men came forward, many hands reaching for ropes to pull, and pull, and pull
again. The wooden gates protested and the roar of the men grew louder.

Stephicles stepped forward, a
hand on the pommel of his sword, excited tension visible in his focused attention.
"Do it," Kiran heard him mutter. "Do it!"

A deep creaking sound portended
her worst fear. There was movement in the crowd of men at the base of the gate
and suddenly the portal, pushed to its limit, gave way with a snapping of wood.
The top bowed outwards and was pulled down into the mass below. "No," Kiran
moaned and felt the hot sting of tears burning her eyes. "Oh goddess, no..."

A cheer went up even as the defenders
fought frantically from above, hurling spears and chunks of rock, anything that
could be brought to hand. Fighting broke out as Stephicles' men moved into the
bailey and from there Kiran knew that the worst had only begun. "No." Her desperate
anger grew in her chest, large and burning, and she shook off Mira's hand, took
two quick steps forward and jumped on Stephicles' back. With a flip of her wrists
she brought the chain hanging between her manacles around his neck and yanked
back with all her remaining strength. The man beneath her thrashed, but Kiran
hung on, the chain digging into her palms as she wordlessly screamed her wrath.

She never saw the blow that took
her down. The hard ground came up too soon and she tried to lift herself just
as another blow to the back put her face first into the grass. "Stay down,"
Mira ordered her.

Her vision, prickled with spots
of light, alternately blurred and focused, and she turned her head and watched
Stephicles struggle to his feet, both hands on his throat as he coughed. A livid
weal stood out starkly on his skin as he turned and kicked her hard in the ribs.
Kiran grunted and curled up in a ball, the fire of her defiance extinguished.

"You're dead," Stephicles croaked.
He spun and pointed a finger at Mira. "Kill her and this time I mean it!" Rubbing
his throat he stalked over to his horse, mounted, and waited for Ares to join
him.

The God of War strolled over
to her side and hunkered down, clicking his tongue at her mockingly. "Wasn't
a bad attempt, but you don't get points for losing," he told her. "Too bad you
didn't take my offer." He rose to his feet smoothly and would have walked away
if not for Kiran's sudden grip on his boot.

"Wait!" She said.

Ares raised an eyebrow at her
temerity.

"You said..." She pulled in a pained
breath. "You said she'd be here."

"I said she'd arrive in time.
I didn't say what she'd arrive in time for." Ares threw back his dark
head and laughed.

"Ares!" Stephicles gestured towards
the town where the fighting had grown in earnest and spread to the upper walls.

"Ah..." He took in the sight of
Neapolis' ravishment with relish. "I love my job." The God turned to face Mira,
whose eyes lowered to watch Kiran struggle to gain her knees. "Do it right this
time. When this is over, you and I are going to have a little talk." And with
that, Ares mounted his horse and touched his heels to the animal's sides, leading
the gallop towards the gate.

The rest of the army rode to
join their General, leaving the two women behind on the hillock to watch as
the fires broke out, their smoke rising darkly in the wet wind to spread a shadowy
smear of grey against the clouds.

Neapolis was lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

The door banged open and a blood-splattered,
smoke-blackened man in armour burst into the room causing its occupants to cry
out in surprise and fear. "The gate is down!" Dalis yelled to Laera. Pandemonium
erupted and she had to shout several times to quiet them. "They're in the courtyard,"
he hurried on. "You have to hide, councillor, they'll be here soon!" The man
looked over his shoulder as several of his troops followed him in. "Time to
go."

"Bettina," Laera snapped her
fingers to get the younger woman's attention. "As we planned. Get everyone to
the temple's basement. It's stone and defensible." The crowd that filled the
council chamber's hall was not the whole of them, but they were all that could
be gathered from the town to be brought to the safety that the hall had offered.
"Calmly, everyone. To the temple. Follow Bettina and Dimitra."

Laera watched as the younger
children were lifted onto the backs of the older children, or carried in the
arms of their mothers and elders. Under the guidance of the militia, they filed
quickly and noisily from the hall, their frightened and worried voices bouncing
hollowly in the large room. She reached out and grabbed Dalis' arm to prevent
him leaving as well. "How bad is it?"

Round and bloodshot eyes stared
at her from a blanched and dirty face. "We can't hold them," he whispered hoarsely.
"We're fighting them in the streets and we have the gods to thank for the rain
otherwise the fires would have torched everything. They're looting us, councillor,
looting and killing. Mostly the troops, small consolation that might be. But
he's in the courtyard." Dalis didn't bother saying his name, they both knew
who he meant. "Before we pulled back I heard him laughing and speaking of hanging
the citizens from the walls as a warning to those who might think to defy him.
Even women and children."

"Gods have mercy," Laera breathed
with horror as she looked away towards 'Demeter's Winter' with its hard and
barren landscape. The enormity of the threat facing them nearly turned her vitals
to water. "Has there been any sign..."

Mutely, he shook his head. Until
the very last moment before they were forced to retreat from the walls, he and
the militia had scanned the horizon awaiting the warrior's promised return with
desperate hope. To no avail. And now...

Laera's wan face turned to the
tapestry again and wondered if she would live to see the end of this long winter
that had been filled to overflowing with death. And hope in very short supply.
All the prophecies she had heard had come to naught. With the gate broken she
could only guess that Kiran lay somewhere, alone and dead. And with Stephicles'
coming, hope was a fleeting notion with no more substance than a dream. Ashes
and ruin. Her staunch faith and stubborn will had bought them time, but also
the warlord's embittered ire with it, and her town would pay the price for her
folly.

With faltering steps, Laura turned
and stood beneath the image of the goddess hanging at the head of the hall and
stared upwards beseechingly. "Athena, do not abandon your people," she whispered
in broken anguish. "Do not let them suffer for my pride." Could she have spared
them this if she had only surrendered earlier? The old woman reached out a withered
hand and grasped the bottom of the tapestry. With a sob, she lowered her forehead
to rest it against the gilded fabric.

Dalis stepped to her side, his
awkwardness accentuated by the tilt of his head and the way his hand hovered
just on the verge of touching her back. "Please," he whispered. "Please. Laera..."
he swallowed uncomfortably. "She will do her part. We must still do ours. Come
away now. Please..."

At his urging she released the
tapestry and allowed him to escort her from the dark and empty hall. Laera paused
at the door to look back. She wondered sometime later if it was a trick of the
light that made it seem so, or perhaps it had been only the overwrought imagination
of an old woman, but she could have sworn that the eyes of the Goddess smiled
down upon her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

"We're getting close." Taelere
listened as he and Xena surveyed the area.

"I want everyone off the road
and into the woods on this side." She pointed over to his right. "Prepare the
infantry and cavalry. Once we get to the area around the town I'll want them
ready to split up to get into position. And get me a scouting detail. I want
to ride ahead to see what we can expect."

They had ridden almost non-stop
since leaving Kozani and even Taelere, accustomed to rigourous campaigns, felt
the effects of hours spent in the saddle despite the infrequent breaks she grudgingly
gave them. After her return from the woods, splattered in blood and stone-faced,
their conversations had been terse and awkward though he could appreciate, in
retrospect, her reasons for wanting to keep his troops out of any additional
fighting. But however many of them there were, do you really think that a
handful would have been a match for nearly two-hundred fighters? There was
no guessing what thoughts were moving behind those ice blue eyes. "I'll see
to it immediately," he replied quietly and turned his horse back in search of
his section leaders.

* * *

Xena adjusted a bracer and watched
Taelere leave. Every instinct she had told her to leave them now, ride on. In
spite all outward appearances to the contrary, her body fairly hummed with her
impatient tension. For all her single-minded focus, however, she was still hyper-aware
of her surroundings. And for the past couple of hours Xena had fought the urge
to drop back and investigate whatever was making her senses itch. Something
was back there, but this close to Neapolis she couldn't afford to waste the
time. For all his promises, the warrior wasn't inclined to trust Ares any farther
than she could kick him.

The sound of approaching horses
captured her attention and she watched as a half dozen of Taelere's soldiers
came to a halt around her. They were tired, she could see, and they looked at
her with a satisfying mix of wariness and respect. That she still sat straight
and tall in the saddle was no little reason either Xena intuited as she caught
one man shifting in his saddle with a wince and a veiled expression of envy.

"Try to keep up," was all she
said before urging Argo into the trees.

* * *

They rode for perhaps another
hour until Xena ordered them to pull to a stop. With hands signals they had
learned to recognise on their trip here, she set three as a close perimeter
watch while the other three trailed her crouched and silently moving form deeper
into the woods. They watched her closely, paused when she paused, and looked
at each other in confusion when she lifted her head and opened her mouth, giving
every appearance of tasting the air. With an abrupt wave of her hand they all
dropped to their bellies and crawled forward after her to a rise where the tree
line stopped and gave a wide view of the ground below them.

They heard her breath catch and
what sounded like a curse. Concerned, they edged closer, moving up beside her
to see the sweep of the valley that became visible through the break in the
trees. They quickly saw the source of her anger...

Neapolis was burning

Wide-eyed and stunned, they took
in the view of the nearly empty city of tents set back from the town and the
ant-sized figures that swarmed around the front of the gaping hole that was
once the gate. Smoke from numerous fires, dark and heavy, lifted into the sky
and they understood now what the Warrior Princess had detected.

She rolled over, her eyes flitting
sightlessly over the foliage, obviously thinking. "You rabid, untrustworthy,
useless piece of centaur dung," she gritted out and slapped the ground with
a gloved palm. "Son of a bacchae!"

"Ma'am?" One of them tentatively
ventured. Hot blue eyes snapped over and the soldier wondered suddenly if she
might kill him for speaking out of turn.

"You," she crooked her finger
at him. "C'mere."

"M-me?"

She grabbed his shoulder and
pointed down towards Neapolis. "See that?" She waited for him to nod. "We're
going to fix that."

"But... how?"

"Forget what you were told on
the road and listen up..."

* * *

She watched the three of them
hurry back to their horses and take the perimeter troops with them as they passed,
counting on them to deliver her message to Taelere as quickly as possible. The
warrior had had them repeat her instructions back to her three times to make
sure they understood completely before allowing them to go.

Edging forward again from where
she still lay on the wet, muddy ground, Xena let her eyes sweep over the battlefield
and mentally changed her tactics from moment to moment as she examined the situation
in light of her new plans. It won't be easy, but then it never is, is it?

She closed her eyes and lowered
her head to rest on her arm. Everything ached. And she couldn't remember the
last time she had been this tired. Would it be a relief when this was over?
Would death be a release? Or would Tartarus only heighten this pervasive sense
of weary guilt that she felt in herself? Turning her head, she suffered a momentary
sense of déjà vu as she realised that she had lain almost in this
very spot only a handful of days ago. Except then, when she had looked over,
a pair of earnest and excited green eyes had looked back at her.

No more. Her breath caught
with the ache of her impending loss and she felt a painful knot of longing.
But try as she might to push it away, she was unable, or perhaps it was more
that she was unwilling to dismiss the bard entirely from her thoughts. Gabrielle...be
strong. I need you to be strong. But... I wish I could see you again. At least
once more.

It was not to be however. Instead,
she took a deep breath, pushed herself to her feet and headed towards a restlessly
impatient Argo who was awaiting her return. As she checked the tack over and
tightened the girth strap one of the soldier's questions came to mind again...

But... where will you be?

Xena remounted the spirited animal
and slowly drew her sword. The damp saddle leather creaked as she settled herself
and she let the hilt of the weapon fall gently to rest on her thigh. Her eyes
turned cold and radiated menace as she inspected its sharply honed edge. "Where
will I be? Keeping a promise," she growled into the empty clearing and kicked
the horse into motion. "Hyah!" She broke from the edge of the woods, her dark
hair flying in the wind and rain, and her eyes blazing as she raced to the walls.
They would pay for this. And so would she. Finally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

"Get in there."

The shove from behind sent Kiran
reeling to her hands and knees in the vacant tent, eliciting a small grunt of
pain. Warily, she looked back over her shoulder to where Mira's form was silhouetted
against the tent flap's opening and wondered if this was going to be it.

Tiredly, Kiran managed to get
herself as far up as her knees, wondering all the while if it would be worth
it to put up a fight. Part of her was so dreadfully weary and hurt, so much
so that she was almost willing to lie down and have it all be over with. But
something else inside was offended by the notion of letting them have an easy
win over her. "So what now?" She asked and looked around. "Are you going to
kill me finally?" She didn't even try to smooth the rough tone that coloured
her words.

Mira didn't answer right away,
instead moving further into the room and towards a table strewn with parchment.
It was only then that Kiran realised that she had been brought back to the warlord's
own quarters.

"You'd better hurry it up," Kiran
continued to snipe. "Or else you'll miss getting into town in time to watch
your master hang everybody from the walls. I'm sure you'd just love to kick
a few over yourself, wouldn't you?" She braced herself for the blow and felt
Mira's shove her with enough force to knock her on her side. Wheezing, Kiran
rolled on her back and looked up at the expression of anger that couldn't quite
erase the look of shame.

"What's the matter? Don't want
to be the one responsible for killing Neapolis' hope?"

"Stop it!" Mira shouted. "Why
won't you stop?"

"Because it's true and you just
won't face it!" Kiran shouted back, her temper flaring. Could she be convinced?
"Laera cared about you. Even loved you. And now, I'll bet Stephicles is going
to make her suffer, the bastard. He seems like just the type to do it too. You
kill me, he kills her, Neapolis falls and hundreds of people will suffer and
die."

"If I don't, he'll kill me."

"We all die. Sometimes
you get to choose how. You said you didn't want to serve Ares anyway. Let me
go. Maybe I can still do some good."

"I can't..." Mira said through
gritted teeth. "You have no idea what he'd do to me."

"Then I guess we all have our
priorities," Kiran sneered with contempt as she levered herself up. "G'wan.
Get it over with." She leaned her head back to expose her throat. "The slaughter's
already started, so it's not like I'll be the first."

The former acolyte raised her
short sword slowly up to shoulder level, the blade gleaming dully with the light
thrown from the smoking braziers at the other side of the room. Her face contorted
itself into an open-mouthed expression of anguished determination and her teeth
snapped shut and clenched tight as a low rumbling growl built into a shout.

Maybe she had misjudged her.
Maybe she couldn't be reached. Ares' hold on her was so insidiously deep. Oh
gods, oh gods, I don't want to die, oh please...The words rushed through her
mind as Kiran's body tensed for the blow. She pressed her eyes shut, not wanting
to see the sword's final flash before it hit her. Will it hurt much?

Mira's cry nearly deafened her
and the fingers that gripped the rug whitened to the knuckles. She felt the
cold hum of the blade along her skin, and the captain let out a grunt of sound
that was followed immediately by the clang of the blade striking the tent pole.
Kiran's eyes opened wide and her hands slapped against her throat, their gazes
meeting.

The brown haired girl sobbed
for breath as she watched the realisation grow in Kiran's eyes. In that one
sweep of her weapon everything had changed. Everything.

"You..." Kiran croaked, her eyes
wide.

"I can't," Mira whimpered and
fell to her knees. "I can't." The sword fell from her hands and she covered
her face and sobbed.

"Thank you, gods." Her prisoner
collapsed back on the rug and let her chained hands fall limply on her chest
in profound relief. Kiran stared up at the tent's ceiling and breathed deeply.
The wisp of air across her skin had been so fine she had feared that she hadn't
even felt the blade cut her until she had reached up and felt for herself that
she was still whole and in relatively one piece. And it felt so unbelievably
good.

It would be a moment, she decided,
that would remain etched in her memory for the rest of her life. The feel of
the cold air on her skin, the sound of the raindrops against the tarpaulin and
Mira's soft crying, the sparklingly raw feel of her aches and pains that told
her she was alive. Her eyes slowly roamed the interior of the tent and noted
for the first time the vibrancy of its coloured fabric. She wanted to laugh.
Or cry. Later, she told herself as she regained her wits. If I live.
There was still so much more to do.

Lifted on her sudden euphoria
at sidestepping death, Kiran managed to roll to her knees and with the aid of
a nearby chair, climbed unsteadily to her feet. "Ungh," she groaned. "Ok..." Now
she just had to figure out her next step. The table covered in papers caught
her eye and she stumbled over to it and examined the numerous maps showing Neapolis
and its surrounding area. "Useless." She shoved them off the table and let them
flutter to the floor in a soft crinkling rain. "I already know where they're
going." A thought occur to her and Kiran turned to look in the corner of the
room and was relieved to see that her belongings still lay there.

The boots were wet, but she happily
wiggled her toes in the leather and felt vaguely more human by the passing moment.
The chains on her wrists frustrated her efforts to don her armour and she turned
to the still weeping woman and thrust her manacles under her nose. "Unchain
me," Kiran demanded.

When Mira didn't respond, Kiran
reached out and buried her fists in the other's armour and shook her as hard
as she was able. "Gods damn you! Get me out of these!" The violence of her movements
snapped Mira back to awareness and she dug at her waist belt with trembling
fingers. It slipped from her grasp, but Kiran quickly scooped it up and set
about undoing the locks binding her wrists. The click they made was satisfying
and Kiran dumped the chains on the floor and quickly returned to her pile of
belongings.

She struggled into her armour,
and shrugged the leather plating into place, the effort leaving her feeling
sweaty and out of breath. The padding was barely enough to cushion its weight
against her injuries, but she tried her best not to feel it as she tucked her
gloves in her belt and moved the empty scabbard around to her left side. Gods
only knew where her sword had gone. But she would definitely need another...

Kiran looked over her shoulder
and notice Mira's discarded weapon lying abandoned on the floor. Just the
thing.

She reached for the hilt and
suddenly found her wrist caught in a vise-like grip. Jerking against it she
lifted her eyes to find Mira's pale face, now serious and calm, staring back
at her.

"You take that with you and they'll
kill you for bait before you even get back into the town," Mira said, her voice
husky from crying.

"And what am I supposed to do?
Wait here for your lord and master to come back and skin me alive?" Kiran struggled,
her breath coming hard and fast. The grip on her wrist was too strong. "Let
me go!"

"You'll never live to see the
temple if you go in there like you are. You're wounded and weak."

"Another one of your prophecies?"
Kiran retorted. "Maybe you have a better idea?" She added and reached for the
weapon with her other hand. She growled in frustration as that wrist was grabbed
as well.

"Not a prophecy, but it may as
well be one! You'll never make it on your own," Mira stated with certainty.
She paused as if weighing her words. "But, you might if you take me."

"Take you..." the captain breathed
unable to believe her ears.

"Take me with you."

Was it a trap? Did it matter?
She needed to get into the town as quickly as possible, and if Mira could give
her a sure way in... "Why? Why would you do this?"

Mira swiped a hand across her
face removing the last signs of moisture from her eyes. Though red-rimmed, her
gaze was strong and determined. "Laera never deserved this. And neither did
you. I can't lie to myself anymore and say that it doesn't matter."

It could work. It could, but
for the girl's tendency to switch sides. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't, but you can. I'll
even swear it to Athena if you want me to."

Kiran looked in her eyes, and
felt the time slipping by her as she tried to figure out what to do.

"I won't betray you again," Mira
whispered seeming to read her mind.

"That's right," Kiran agreed
grimly. "Because by this point, you've turned on everyone you've ever sided
with and you've only got one shot at this."

Mira grabbed the discarded manacles
and her sword and then stood smoothly. With a last look around, she reached
down a hand to Kiran. "We'd better going before we're too late."

"Gods helps us if we are." She
grunted as she was pulled to her feet, and she leaned heavily on Mira's sturdy
frame. With her help, they moved to the flap of the tent and peered out onto
the battlefield. A quick glance was shared between them, one of sorrow and apology,
before they ducked out of the tent.

A sound from behind them made
Kiran turn and her jaw dropped when, from out of the mists and rain, came the
growing sound of thundering hooves punctuated by a distinctive war cry. It was
only a moment before horse and rider streaked past them, but Kiran hardly needed
more to identify the rider to herself. Her look of shocked surprise transformed
into a triumphant smile, and a new light came into her eyes. "Death comes for
your master, Mira," she said, her aches considerably less noticeable. "And hope
isn't far behind."

With renewed purpose and energy,
she set off again with Mira's help, and they headed for the temple and the heart
of the siege.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

Stephicles fought with his men,
the protective ring around him often collapsing inwards under the desperate
and frantic efforts of the Neapolis militia to push through and kill him. Nader
rode at his side, fiercely beating them back as they progressed step by step
down the cobblestone road towards the centre of town where the temple and their
prize awaited them. Ares accompanied them as well, the God of War taking considerable
pleasure in the brutal fighting waged in his presence. In the brief moments
that allowed Stephicles to rest his arm, he could hear Ares shouting commentary
to all and sundry, his enjoyment evident in his tone and the wide, toothy smile
that graced his face. Much to his annoyance, the God had yet to even lift a
hand to help them however.

"Ooo! That hadda smart!" Ares
chortled as he watched one of Stephicles own troops take a sword to the gut.
He reached out a hand to snag a spear in mid-flight and twirled it in one hand
as he looked around. "Better keep moving," Ares suddenly shouted towards the
warlord. "This little cul-de-sac could turn into a bloodbath in a second if
reinforcements arrive."

No centaur dung, Stephicles
thought angrily as he parried another sword thrust. The god deigned to offer
advice and encouragement at the oddest times, sometimes when the answer was
readily obvious. He hoped that the vacated position of Ares' Chosen and what
it represented was worth putting up with the God's sense of humour and unusual
quirks. "Forward!" He ordered his men, and he felt them rally and push forward.
In turn, he watched the defenders' resolve wavering as more of his men came
through the gate behind him. Not as many as he had originally brought with him,
and many of those numbers illusory, given that he was certain the brigands couldn't
be trusted not to knife his own troops in the back. But it would be enough.

He laughed as his sword took
down another of their militia, and he spurred his horse cruelly causing it to
leap over a broken wagon, forcing his own men to fight all the harder to keep
up with him.

By the gods, it would be enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Gabrielle knew she was getting
close. The fresh markings on the forest floor at her last rest stop, barely
touched by the rain, had told her so. With that proof at hand, it was all she
could do to sit still, let Chiaro rest, and swallow some of the travel bread
and dried fruit Agraulos had included in her supplies before jumping back in
the saddle. Something Xena had told her once about the difficulties in mobilising
large groups convinced Gabrielle that she must be moving along at a much faster
rate than she thought in spite of how hard Xena was likely to be pushing them.

Her palms were sweaty in the
confines of her dark, leather gloves, and her stomach fluttered restlessly,
almost making her regret having eaten anything at all. Her thoughts moved relentlessly
in the same circles, consumed by her worry for Xena's safety and that of the
Neapolitans. Gabrielle missed her, too. She even missed that dour glare and
the brooding silences. Missed the sense of strength and presence that the warrior
exuded that both calmed her and made her feel safe.

It galled her that she was unable
to remember anything beyond being carried from the council chamber in Xena's
arms. Especially since, according to Agraulos, her friend had stayed with her
for a time before finally leaving to attend to her preparations. Still, it was
a good memory to have though; that cherished sensation of tender concern as
the warrior had held her close even as the council, awash with tension, threatened
to imprison Xena and undo all their efforts to stop Stephicles. Shyly, Gabrielle
realised that she missed Xena's touch, and she silently and fervently prayed
that that moment back in Kozani wouldn't be the last time she felt that kind
of protective peace. And it won't. Not if I have anything to say about it.

The bard was so distracted by
her thoughts that the far off noise barely registered through her awareness.
Putting a temporary hold on her introspection, Gabrielle narrowed her eyes and
squinted into the fog-draped foliage. Was it her imagination, or simply wishful
thinking? Was it possible? She could have sworn that she heard an almost rumbling
thrum in the air. A thick stand of trees, ghostly in the mist, obstructed her
view, but her heart began to pound in response to the hopeful thought.

She chose a path that veered
to one side of the copse; and she leaned over Chiaro's mane, moving with the
horse's gait as Xena had taught her. And suddenly it was her imagination no
more. A few hundred yards ahead of her the fog parted to reveal the vague outline
of columns of horsemen riding through the woods, their passing echoing eerily
in the mist. Her heart filled to bursting with excitement and Chiaro seemed
to feel the same, picking up her hooves and nearly flying along between the
trees.

It was all Gabrielle could do
not to shout her excitement as she gripped the Spear in one hand and clung to
the saddle horn with the other as they bore down on the group trotting quickly
through the woods. Elated beyond words, Gabrielle's face lit up like a candle
and she overtook the rear guard just as they turned to investigate the sound
behind them. Just you wait, Xena... Her excitement was so great so could
barely breathe. Green eyes slid right and left, searching for the leather-clad
warrior.

"Excuse me!" She called as she
passed them by on the left side, lifting herself in the stirrups to try to see
the front. "Pardon me, I need to get through," the bard said ducking and evading
the few hands that reached out to stop her as she steered through their lines
and continued on down the right side. "Oops!" Distracted, Gabrielle felt the
Spear knock into someone and heard them grunt in response. "Sorry!" She called
back and tried to ignore the sound of swords being drawn behind her as she urged
Chiaro into a light canter instead.

Voices shouted behind her as
she raced towards the front of the column. The commotion had drawn their attention,
and Gabrielle disregarded the looks of confusion and surprise thrown her way
as she looked for the familiar form of her partner. "Xena!" C'mon, where
are you?

"Halt where you are!" A deep
voice ordered. An older man pointed his sword at her as she approached, and
he turned in his saddle to follow her progress. "Go no further. There's danger
ahead."

"I know, thanks," Gabrielle called
out as she came along side of him, still looking around. "That's where I'm headed."

He looked at her as though she
were mad. "Excuse me?"

She looked back at him and then
swivelled her head around. "This is the Kozani army, isn't it?" Gabrielle
asked him, not knowing exactly what she would do if the answer was negative.

The man's brows drew together.
"Yes," he answered slowly, still trying, very obviously, to figure her out.

"Where's Xena?"

His brow jumped and then drew
together again. "How do you know her?" He demanded suspiciously.

Gabrielle was getting impatient.
"She's my friend. Do you know where she is?" A sense of foreboding was settling
in her stomach, and Gabrielle almost didn't need to hear his answer, her eyes
were already shifting down the path.

"She's gone on ahead to the town,"
he answered, disapproval heavy in his tone, whether at her or at Xena, the bard
couldn't tell.

"Damn it!" Gabrielle swore heatedly,
and blinked back her sudden tears at the feeling of disappointment and upset
that knotted her stomach. Now what do I do? Fragmented thoughts wouldn't
come together, and she gritted her teeth as panic started to set in.

"Friend or no friend," he broke
into her thoughts, "you must go back. It isn't safe for you here."

"She needs me," Gabrielle answered
in a near whisper and felt a corresponding sense of rightness echo through her
chest. She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm the ambassador for Neapolis. My name
is Gabrielle, and I have to get a message to Xena. There's a spy in Neapolis
who I'm sure is able to contact Stephicles, and they know your plans."

"Ah," he breathed. "That explains
it then."

"What?" Gabrielle asked, barely
breathing. "That explains what?"

"They've already stormed the
town and pulled down the gate. Stephicles has breached the walls."

"Oh, gods... no," she whispered.
The Spear in her hands was suddenly heavy. "Are we too late?"

"Not if Xena has anything to
say about it," he replied with a reluctant smile as they ducked beneath an overhanging
branch. "She's already sent back a change of orders. She means to take back
the town."

"But she's going in there alone?"

He shook his head in annoyed
disgust. "It's not like she gave me a choice, otherwise I would have demanded
that she wait for an escort."

"She is rather single
minded," Gabrielle conceded. "Besides, an escort would really cramp her style."

He snorted. "So I noticed."

The pull seemed stronger, the
need to go almost urgent. "If you're smart, you'll follow her instructions,"
she told him, but her eyes were already on the way ahead. "Good luck." She gave
Chiaro her head and the two broke into a run, leaving the man to gape at her
with his hand extended uselessly out behind her.

"Wait...I have something for you!"
He shouted to no effect. Taelere gripped the reins tighter and signalled the
group to pick up speed. "Let's go, people," he admonished them. "If we don't
hurry up, those two will probably take the town all on their own without us."

Facetious as he had made it sound,
Taelere wouldn't have put it past them to do just that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Argo moved with sure speed beneath
her, the sharp, pounding hooves carved out clods of turf as they galloped down
the hillside and straight into the raiders' camp. The pure exhilaration of speed
and the coming confrontation roused her excitement, bursting forth in rich,
deep laughter. The savage joy gave way to her battle cry as they burst through
a bank of fog and into the tents. Her surroundings rushed by, blurs of colour
that faded from her awareness as Xena's focus narrowed in on the fighting. The
mass of people roiled thickly, like a single, slow moving beast to block her
way into the town.

A frontal assault on the gate
was quickly dismissed. Xena knew she could battle her way through it, but it
would take far more time than she was willing to spend. That left the wall to
contend with. Her blue eyes flicked over the broken and pockmarked stone and
came to a sudden decision. A shift of her knees steered Argo hard to the right
and the mare eagerly complied. They raced through the tents and out the other
side, rounding one corner of the town's fortifications and bringing them completely
out of sight of the gate.

With a strong hand to the reins,
she pulled Argo to slippery halt. The mare pranced restlessly in response to
her mistress' mood and bobbed her head sharply up and down giving a strident
whinny. Xena shoved her sword in its scabbard and stared determinedly at the
top of the wall that lay beyond the overflowing gully some twenty feet up. The
distance and trajectory would be a bitch, and she would likely be unable to
get much momentum, but there was no quicker way. "C'mon, Argo. Let's do this."
She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about how much this was going to
hurt if she missed. How much it was going to hurt even if it she didn't.
The thought of Stephicles already on the other side of the wall was more
than enough impetus to get her moving, however, and she took a deep breath to
set herself.

"Hyah!" The heels of her boots
dug into Argo's flanks, and the horse reared and leapt into a dead run straight
for the gully. Placing her hands on the saddlebow, Xena pressed herself upwards
and braced her feet beneath her on the seat. She crouched low and moved easily
with the horse, maintaining her balance with one hand and grasping the reins
with the other.

The gully with its murky depths
and rain-rippled surface drew nearer and nearer. A little more...she urged.
"Closer..." And suddenly she pulled the reins taut, bringing Argo to a sudden,
sliding halt. The warrior kicked off, launching herself up and forward over
the shallow moat. For a long and breathless moment the wind filled her ears
and buffeted her body as her eyes focused on the edge of the wall, willing herself
to stretch enough to make it. She extended her body to its fullest length, hands
reaching out as the stonework rushed to meet her.

The breath whooshed out of her
as she slammed hard into the unforgiving barrier with a dull clanging thud,
her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Xena shook the hair from her eyes and gasped
for breath while the rough, wet stone bit into her palms. The glance down she
spared herself revealed a body scraped and bleeding, and a breastplate dented
to uncomfortable proportions. But it had likely saved her from further damage,
small consolation as that was at the moment.

Her sensitive ears made her pause
for a moment and tilt her head to listen. Like something out of her nightmares,
the audible and distinctive sounds of screams and fighting came from over the
wall, fuelling her rage and lending strength to her tired muscles. She gave
a huffing grunt and slowly pulled herself up far enough to swing a leg over
the ledge, and she glanced around with wary caution. The parapet was a mess;
chunks of rock, discarded weapons and bodies lay everywhere, but for the moment
it was quiet.

The ring of metal was loud as
she pulled her sword free from the sheath. Though attention was likely directed
elsewhere, the warrior ran silently along the wall and further away from the
gate. Stopping the invading army was a task she would reluctantly leave in Taelere's
competent hands. Stephicles was her concern. From her vantage, she assessed
the conditions below and noted that civilians now grappled along side the town's
militia, and the fighting was fierce and close in the debris-filled streets.
Smoke and muted fires raged and her soul, furious and torn, watched as the warlord's
army slowly advanced, killing and pillaging by turns.

The sight fuelled her wrath and
she finally looked away to search the rooftops for Athena's temple. She hadn't
seen it during her time here, but she figured there had to be some kind of indication.
At least a statue to her ego or something... she thought sardonically.
A familiar wooden symbol caught her sharp eye, and the warrior grinned and took
a firmer grip on her sword hilt. The streets, like the gate, were choked with
people. It was a route she wasn't even interested in considering. So she would
devise another way. You wanna be Ares' Chosen, huh? Think you're better than
me? Let's see you try this one.

Xena began to run. Her long legs
quickly picked up tremendous speed as she sprinted along the parapet. "Ai-yiyiyiyiyiyiyiy-chi-ya!"
She gauged the distance between the ledge and the nearest roof and, using her
incredible momentum, propelled herself off the catwalk and into a series of
tight somersaults. The force of her landing snapped the wooden slates beneath
her boot soles as she connected with their surface, and Xena dived into a forward
roll to bleed off some of her speed before leaping her feet and dashing for
the far edge of the housetop. Behind her the wood planks collapsed inwards leaving
a dark gaping maw with her passing.

Another dozen rooftops and
I'm there. She was so close now that nothing was going to stop her. "Get
ready, you bastard." She gave a feral grin as her feet left the roof. I'm
coming for you.